


Debauched

by Dark_Sassenach36



Category: Outlander
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Sassenach36/pseuds/Dark_Sassenach36
Summary: When I read ABOSAA I was intrigued by Tom Christie and his feelings for Claire. I wish we could have gotten at least a page from his perspective (He tried to give his life to save Claire after all he deserved a chapter imho.) And as I haven’t been able to find any fanfiction about him I thought I’d give it a whirl. This is set after Claire wakes up from the “Amoeba fever” and just before she goes to visit Tom. This is my first ever attempt at writing any fanfiction so while opinions are appreciated please be kind.





	Debauched

It was her hair. The freedom and defiance in which she wore it, her untamed curls capturing and reflecting the light that seemed to surround her. Perhaps it was her eyes. Warm as honey; so sweet and deep you'd gladly drown in them one moment then shrewd and sharhp as a wolf stalking their prey the next. Skin his fingers ached to touch; like an opal set afire from within.

She'd bewitched him, though he knew she was no witch (no matter the gossip). He knew it was wrong to lust for her this way but he could not seem to help himself to his profound irritation.  
She wasn't.... proper.

She carried herself with far too much authority for a woman, she spoke too boldly, laughed too loudly.

She was the most magnificent creature on God’s green earth.

Even as he lay weak with illness he knew was the work of the witch he called daughter he felt his body grow aroused at the thought finally taking her.

Of wrapping his hands in her glorious hair and having that wicked tongue at his service. He knew she'd be shocked to know he had such thoughts, that he was capable of such passion. The depth of his desire for her surprised even him.

Without conscious thought his hand moved down to wrap around the cockstand that his degenerate thoughts inevitably created. Images he couldn't escape besieged his lust addled mind.

Her hair with its endless shades of brown curled about her face loose and free as she laughed....  
Her hypnotic eyes alive with mischief....

Luminous skin dewy with sweat as she worked in her garden.  
He wondered what her skin would look like flushed with arousal, her mouth swollen from his kisses.

His breath caught in his throat now as he imagined suckling her nipples  
He just knew they would be red as cherries and just as delicious.

Gripping her plump arse from behind as he pounded his flesh into her, until she trembled and moaned **_his_** name.... **_his_** name on **her** lips......the very thought sent him over the edge and into blissful oblivion.

As he floated back to the surface of sanity the guilt of his sin washed over him in bitter waves. To not only abuse himself in such a way but to have such impure thoughts for a married woman.  
Thou shalt not commit adultery.

 

She was the _**last**_ woman he should be in love with.  
She was the **_only_** woman he could be in love with.

"You would think an educated man could learn." he thought with a wry grin.  
But here he was in love with an enchantress…again. A woman he knew could not have and would not want were he sensible.

Apparently he wasn't as sensible as he liked to believe.

After the evidence of his shame had been cleaned, he sat at his desk in the balmy light to transcribe scriptures in the hope of atoning for his transgression. The knock at his door was a surprise as few sought his counsel but he invited his guest to enter. His surprise turned to jaw dropping shock as the woman to blame for his dereliction of morality stood before him.  
Her hair….. he could not stop himself for gaping. Her glorious hair had been shorn from her head. Her sinuous curls were gone and she was deathly pale. He knew she had fallen ill shortly before himself but to see the evidence of it with his own eyes was another gut wrenching matter.

“Mrs. Fraser! Are you-that is- what in the name of God…..” he gaped pointing to her head.

“Oh” she said as she passed a hand over her formerly wanton locks. ”That. You ought to be pleased; I’m not going about outraging the public by a wanton display of my flowing locks.”

Hasn’t lost that wicked tongue he thought with a slight smile.

“You look like a convict” he spoke bluntly to cover his shock. “Sit down.”

“How are you? She asked. Peering at him in that calculating manner she slipped into while examining people.

“How am I?” he could see that she was still rather ill and was astonished and not a little angry that she would venture so far from her bed alone to see to his health. Though a part of him thrilled in it even knowing that she would do so for any she considered under her care.  
“You have walked all the way here, in a dangerously feeble condition, to ask after my health?”  
He noticed that despite her ghastly color her lips were still plump and pink and as she responded flippantly he watched her mouth...and felt his body begin to tighten with need of her again. So when she asked that he move to the light for her to examine him more thoroughly he was… reluctant.  
"Why?” he asked gruffly. He hoped that his obviously surly disposition would deter her from looking at him too closely for he knew his condition would be embarrassingly obvious to them both.  
“Because I want to know a few things regarding your state of health,” she told him. "and examining you is likely the best way of finding them out, since you don’t seem able to tell me much of anything."  
He almost laughed aloud at her audacity but managed to maintain the irritable demeanor he'd adopted in defense of her presence. Knowing she would be unrelenting he submitted to her questions. After a typically uneasy exchange he suggested that he walk her back home while she continued her inquiry.  
“You needn’t walk me home Mr. Christie!" she exclaimed those gorgeous ( _damn her_ ) eyes wide and concerned. "You ought to be in bed, by the looks of you!”  
"And you shouldn't?" he asked sternly. "Put your hat on, I will see you home."  
Whether you like it or not he thought amused with her protests for his well being. The sooner she was back in her own house the better. His breathing was still a bit difficult from illness and her presence so close to where he slept was making it near impossible to draw a decent breath.

As they panted their way up the sun-soaked hill to the big house; occasionally stopping to rest, he vowed that he would put this ridiculous infatuation behind him. It was impossible. She was not his to want and even if she did not already belong to another man, a woman like her would bring nothing but strife.  
But when she turned impish gold eyes to him (the laughter in them creasing the corners)and asked if he had used his chamberpot recently he knew that to be a lie.

"Damn you woman. I shall have no peace while you live..... not that I regret it" he thought with a small smile to himself.

She was the **_last_** woman he should be in love with.  
She was the **_only_** woman he could be in love with.


End file.
